


And Another Thing!

by LittleLynn



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Bond has lost all his equipment, Bond laughs, Complimentary smut, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Mission, Q is pissed, Q shouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Q shouted as Bond swaggered into Q-branch, returning from a mission. A mission involving way too many close shaves (figuratively) and way too little returning equipment. In fact, absolutely no returning equipment whatsoever.</p><p>“I don’t know what you mean.” He replied, all calm and smug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Another Thing!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaggieMay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMay/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for MaggieMay, who requested: 'Some sort of fluffy, crappy, post-mission fic' - so here it is, with complimentary smut of course.
> 
> ENJOY!

 

“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Q shouted as Bond swaggered into Q-branch, returning from a mission. A mission involving way too many close shaves (figuratively) and way too little returning equipment. In fact, absolutely no returning equipment whatsoever.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He replied, all calm and smug.

“You literally destroyed all the equipment I sent you away with!” The rest of Q-branch not so subtly scampered for the exit, obviously predicting this Q/007 fight to be a loud and long one.

“I’m sure you can make more. I have complete faith in you.”

“That is not the point!” Q angrily pushed his glasses up his face. Bond was also massively late checking in, he was meant to be there four hours ago, when Q’s shift was supposed to end. Which he was well-aware of. Self-centred arsehole.

“In fact I’m sure the new ones will be even better.”

“You better not be breaking them deliberately so you can get new toys!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Bond responded with fake innocence, it made Q fume even though he knew Bond was deliberately pushing his buttons.

“Do you have any idea how much that was all worth?”

“Quite a bit? Although not as much as I’m worth, I’m sure.” He answered in only semi-mock arrogance, hoping up onto the desk next to Q.

“You! You’re not worth the suit your wearing. Any idiot can pull a trigger. I’d just like one who can manage to bring the gun back as well.”

“You wound me, Q.” Q continued to grumbled to himself about stupid attractive double-oh agents who thought the world revolved around them. He grabbed what he needed out of one of the millions of cabinets – he was fairly sure he was the only member of Q-branch that actually knew where everything was.

“Hold still.” He commanded, and shot a new tracker into Bond’s arm using a new injector gun he’d made for these exact situations, replacing Bond’s tracker had gotten boring quickly.

“Making sure you can keep tabs on me?”

“You’re the one who seems to need a babysitter.”

“I do fine on my own.”

“You would have been dead if I hadn’t installed a backup listening piece. I shouldn’t have to plant all this on you secretly, you should just be more careful!”

“Or, maybe I always have faith that you’ve given me a backup for my backup.”

“Still should be more careful.” Q groused. A flash of red caught his eye and he pushed aside Bond’s suit lapels to reveal a blood drenched shoulder and arm. “And you’re bleeding on my desk.”

“So I am.” Bond acknowledged, stripping off his jacket and tossing it to the floor.

“Did you even go to the infirmary!?”

“No. I thought I’d come here and get your telling off over with before I have to go endure theirs too. Well, at least with them I’m the merchandise they’re worried about.”

“Well you can’t stay here, bleeding over my computer. Go to the infirmary.”

“Surely you’re not done shouting yet.”

“Not even close. You’ll have to come back afterwards.”

“You must have a first aid kit in here somewhere.”

“Yes, but it’s not exactly equipped to treat bullet wounds!”

“I’m sure it will do. Where is it?”

“No. You have to go to the infirmary. Right now.”

“If you help me patch up my shoulder so I don’t have to go to the infirmary, I promise to bring back at least one item of tech next time.” He smiled wolfishly.

“Now that just suggests that you always have the ability to bring it back but just don’t bother!” Q yelled angrily, but he was grabbing the first aid box nonetheless.

007 peeled of his bloody shirt to reveal a disgusting bullet wound alongside his delicious chest. Q tried really hard not to think about doing badgood things to that chest. He was angry dammit! And Bond was bleeding everywhere. He needed to get it together.

“That is disgusting.” He grimaced, feeling a little ill.

“You can’t possibly get nauseous at the sight of blood. You work at MI6 for god sake.”

“In Q-branch! Bleeding agents are supposed to report to the infirmary, not my desk!”

“You should be happy, I’m prioritising you. Anyway, can you hold this please?” Bond handed Q some gauze as he rummaged through the first aid kit. He drew out some alcohol wipes and handed them to Q, then he waited expectantly.

“What would you like me to do with this?”

“Clean my wound. It’ll be much easier for you to reach it than me.” Q scowled but started dabbing at the wound, whilst simultaneously trying not to actually look at it. He wasn’t being very successful.

“You do need to actually look at it. At the moment you’re completely missing it.”

So Q sucked it up and cleaned the wound out properly, Bond barely winced.

“Is the bullet still in there? I can’t tell.”

“No, I got that out myself.”

“I don’t even want to know how you did that. You should get that stitched up” Q stated, but when he looked up Bond was holding out a needle and thread. It didn’t look like medical thread, or a particularly sharp needle for that matter. “Nope. No way.”

“Would it help if I said please?”

“Not even a little.”

“What about if I promise not to total my next car.” Q muttered angrily and snatched the needle. He knew really that Bond couldn’t guarantee that. But given that he probably wouldn’t visit a hospital or the infirmary anyway, he felt obliged to help.

“This is going to hurt. And it’s not going to be pretty.” Q warned, 007 looked unbothered by the whole thing.

He stitched him up and Bond didn’t even flinch. Q taped on some gauze and admired his shabby work. He did computers and gadgets. Not agents. (Not that he would mind doing this agent).

“There.” He finished crossly, dumping the remaining items back onto the desk.

“Never doubted you.”

Q huffed and used a wipe to clean the blood off his hands – that was so not supposed to be his area.

“Seriously Bond. You almost died! You’ve got to keep hold of your tech. You’re audio and visual pieces at least!” He started up again, only when he turned around Bond was handing him what looked suspiciously like the audio/visual pieces Q had given him.

“You had them all along.”

“Of course. Where would I be without my minder?”

“That means you could hear me but were just choosing to ignore me! And that you actually removed the visual link yourself! That’s even worse you big meathead!” Q was full on shouting again now, not that Bond looked at all bothered by it.

“I don’t know, some of your comments were quite useful. Others sounded downright concerned for my safety.”

“Trust me, I was far more concerned about the file you were retrieving than you.”

“You said something about ‘stupid attractive agents trying to get themselves killed’.” Bond quoted, Q miraculously managed not to blush or even get particularly embarrassed. It’s not like Bond didn’t know he was attractive.

“Yeah, well, I was far more worried about the paperwork I would have to fill out if you died on my watch. Not to mention the bollocking I’d get. For some reason M actually likes you.”

“Don’t you like me Q?” Bond teased.

“No! You’re a pest! A pain in my arse! Literally the bane of my existence!” Bond just laughed, apparently amused by Q’s yelling.

“Well you, are a vital part of my team that I hope never to lose.” That blindsided Q, but he refused to be thrown off track, he was still angry!

“I though you ‘worked alone’” Q air quoted mockingly.

“It seems I’ve made an exception.” Q refused to let him flirt himself out of this, which was exactly what he was doing. It pissed Q off. He didn’t need his ridiculous little crush exploited, that was just unfair.

“You’ll have to bloody unmake it if you keep breaking everything, I might decide to assign you to someone else. Maybe that new trainee I just brought in!”

“I don’t make exceptions often.”

“Well boohoo for you!” Q stopped to catch his breath, he had no idea why Bond looked so fond, he was trying to tell him off for god’s sake.

“And another thing! If you ever removed your visual link on purpose again, so help me I will install it into your actual eyeball!” Q continued, snatching the offered visual and audio tech back off Bond who continued to just look entertained by the whole display. The bastard.

“Oh! And you can get out right now if you think for one sec–” Q was unable to finish his rant because Bond chose that moment to shut him up by planting a hard and fast kiss against his lips before pulling back and smiling an amused but warm little smirk. Q just stood there in a stunned, confused daze for a little while.

“Um, why did you do that?” he managed to stumble out, pushing his glasses back up his face where they’d slid down and crossing his arms defensively.

“Because I wanted to.”

“But, you like women.” Q had been keeping tabs on him on enough missions to know about all the millions of women, not that he needed to, Bond was a well-known womanizer.

“I’m nothing so limited. I like who I like. My life will almost certainly be too short to waste time worrying about what package that comes in.”

“Did you just do that to shut me up, or do you actually like me?” Q asked somewhat nervously.

“I did it because I like you, the shutting up was just a perk.” He grinned.

“I’m still confused by why you did that.” To be honest, he was more reluctant to believe it than confused.

“Would you like me to un-confuse you?” Bond asked with a raised eyebrow, stepping forward, right up into his space.

Q didn’t have time to answer before Bond was kissing him again. His tongue was pushing at the seam of Q’s lips, demanding entry, he parted his lips for him, unable stop – but seriously, who would want to anyway?!

The double-oh agent’s tongue dragged along Q’s as his hands slipped around Q’s waist, pulling him into his chest. Bond bit down on Q’s lip, tugging at it not so gently, it made his knees go weak and his hands scrambled for purchase on Bond’s chest.

One of Bond’s hands snaked up into Q’s hair and pulled it back, baring Q’s throat for him to attack. Q tried not to moan pathetically, but Bond was sucking and biting what would no doubt be some pretty impressive love-bites in the morning, and hair pulling had always been a weakness for him (how did Bond seem to know these things?!)

Whilst continuing his assault on Q’s neck, Bond locked both hands around Q and hoisted him up onto desk. Q was embarrassingly hard inside his trousers, well he would be embarrassed if it weren’t for the delectable agent currently destroying his neck.

Bond returned to kissing Q’s mouth, sucking his tongue into his own mouth. Q raked his nails down Bond’s back as he expertly snapped open Q’s fly, and slipped his hand over Q’s hard cock, only the thin cotton of his boxers separating them. Q made a frankly ridiculous moan into Bond’s mouth, and couldn’t help jerking upwards into the contact. Bond rumbled out a laugh that Q felt vibrate through him, and gripped Q harder through his underwear.

“Off.” Bond murmured pulling at Q’s trousers. Q lifted himself up so Bond could strip them off and throw them in the general direction of the floor. Q started unbuckling Bond’s belt so he had room to get a hand on him. Bond was fully hard (Q would’ve been pretty offended at this point if he wasn’t) and definitely a bit larger than average.

He pulled Bond’s cock from the confines of his trousers and started running his hand up and down the shaft, squeezing at the head, following the same rhythm as Bond was on him, having pushed his boxers down.

They panted into each other’s mouths, steadily working one another, when Bond dragged his pants the rest of the way off, pulled Q onto the ledge of the desk and reached a hand towards his hole, circling his finger tauntingly. Q couldn’t be bothered to stop the whimpers that started to escape his mouth.

“I have a condom. But not any–”

“Middle draw,” Q gasped, Bond reached into the draw and produced a bottle of lube, he raised an eyebrow at Q.

“Do you want me to explain why that is in there, or would you rather put it to good use right now?” 007 smirked and popped the cap, dribbling it over his fingers and sliding one in without preamble. Q moaned and fell back against the desk, scattering his paperwork and luckily not quite hitting his computer.

“M-more.” He demanded after not very long – it wasn’t exactly like he was new at this. Bond slid in a second finger next to the first and began scissoring him open. It wasn’t long before Q was begging him to hurry up.

“Impatient.” Bond laughed, but slid in a third finger, opening Q up. His fingers stroked around inside Q until he found what he was looking for. Q practically keened as Bond brushed across that perfect little bundle of nerves, shamelessly thrusting himself down on his fingers.

“I’m ready, hurry up, please.” He begged, Bond removed his fingers and rolled on the condom. Q was only left feeling empty for a second before he felt Bond lining himself up and pushing in slowly. He revelled in the burn as Bond eased in and bottomed out. He started moving slowly, letting Q get used to him.

“Faster.” He instructed, Bond obliged and buried himself in Q, setting up a punishing rhythm. He lifted Q's leg’s up to wrap around his waist, changing the position just enough for him to start hitting his prostate on every thrust.

Bond braced himself on the desk, either side of Q’s waist, pounding in even harder. The room was filled with their pants and gasps and the sound of skin against skin.

Impossibly, Bond seemed to still be speeding up, sending Q hurtling towards the finish line. He got a hand around himself only to have Bond slap it away and replace it with his own, roughly jerking him off in perfect time with the brutal pace of his hips.

Q constricted around Bond as he came with a loud cry, back arching up off the desk before slumping back down. Bond’s hips became erratic, giving half a dozen more thrusts before sagging down beside Q on the desk. Really they were lucky it was a big enough desk to accommodate the two of them.

Eventually Q decided they needed to move, becoming painfully aware that they just had sex in the middle of Q-branch.

“Oh my god. Remind me to wipe the security tapes.” Q said, sitting up and burying his face in his hands. Bond slung an arm back around his waist and pulled him back down. “Come on Bond, we need to get up before someone finds us.”

“James.”

“What?”

“We just had amazing sex that I plan on repeating many times in the future. Can you please at least call me James.”

“Not in the office. Here you’re Bond and I’m Q.”

“Fine. Next time I will take you to dinner first and then fuck you at home. Then will you call me James?”

“Only outside work.”

“Good.”

“Now come on, get up.” Q commanded, extracting himself from Bond – James’ – grip. He found his underwear and trousers and pulled them on, he then looked down at his cardigan and shirt to discover that it had been the main catchment area for his come.

“Seriously. I liked this cardigan.” He griped, stripping it and his shirt off and grabbing spares out of his draw. James looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and then his clean clothes and at the bottle of lube that had landed on the floor, and finally back to Q.

“Yes, I’m a regular boy scout. Now could you please get dressed before someone comes back.” James pulled up and tucked himself back into his trousers, he didn’t bother with his shirt.

“You know. I don’t actually know your name. In fact, I’m not sure anyone actually knows it.”

“Correct.”

“So what am I supposed to call you during the dinner I just promised you?”

“Q’s fine.”

“I’d much rather have your real name.”

“Miles.” He mumbled.

“No surname?”

“Nope, you’re going to have to earn that.”

“And how might I achieve that.”

“Bring back your bloody tech!” Q yelled, James laughed. He went to leave, to find Bond a shirt – he really couldn’t wear the blood soaked one – only to find James catching up and walking beside him, apparently planning on trailing him through the building.

They found him a shirt and luckily no one seemed at all interested in the half naked agent and the quartermaster stealing shirts.

Q went back into q-branch and grabbed his satchel, heading home for the night, James continued to keep pace beside him.

“Are you planning on following me all the way home?” Q asked, heading out into the car park.

“No. I was planning on taking you out to dinner and then fucking you at home.” Bond grinned, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards his outrageous Aston Martin.

“So romantic.” Q deadpanned, but let Bond lead him to his car instead of his own. Bond made a point of opening the door for him.

 

 

He forgot to wipe the security tapes.        

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You're obviously the best ;) 
> 
> Come harass me on [tumblr](http://obithefabulous.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I will take prompts for various ships if you want, you just have to be prepared to deal with my mad procrastinating, message me on tumblr if you fancy trusting me with one :)
> 
> Merci beautiful people!


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